


Cradle of Love

by Dresupi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Awkward Steve Rogers, Blow Jobs, Dream Sex, F/M, Kitchen Sex, One Shot, Oral Sex, Pining, Prompt Fill, Steve Rogers-centric, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 18:04:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8170846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dresupi/pseuds/Dresupi
Summary: Natasha. He only knew her first name.  His downstairs neighbor. He’d only met her a couple of times at the mailbox.  And once because he was moving furniture at four A.M and it woke her up.  She’d come up and knocked on his door then too.  And he’s stared at her then just like he was now.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heyfrenchfreudiana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyfrenchfreudiana/gifts).



> Prompted by heyfrenchfreudiana for my 90's Song Prompts. "Cradle of Love" by Billy Idol, 1990. 
> 
> Link to the song [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NCZuYS-9qaw). 
> 
> It's kind of based on the music video. ;)
> 
>  

The knock at his door startled him.  He’d been face-deep in work since approximately six o’clock P.M Friday.  And it was now…Saturday afternoon.  He remembered briefly napping on the couch and taking a shower at some point.  

He had a Monday morning deadline on these menu designs and he wasn’t anywhere near being finished. 

“Just…leave it at the door!” Steve called over his shoulder. 

He had a sign out there for solicitors, neighbors, or anyone else who thought they needed to knock on his door. 

He wasn’t even sure what deliveries he was expecting.  He hadn’t ordered pizza.  He supposed it could be a package or something. 

The knocking resumed.  Louder than before. 

Sighing heavily, he tore himself away from his laptop screen, setting the device on the coffee table as he got up and went to answer the door. 

He had a speech ready.  A “can’t-you-read-there’s-a-sign-numb-nuts” speech.  It died there on his lips when he saw who was waiting for him. 

Natasha. 

He only knew her first name.  His downstairs neighbor. He’d only met her a couple of times at the mailbox.  And once because he was moving furniture at four A.M and it woke her up.  She’d come up and knocked on his door then too.  And he’s stared at her then just like he was now. 

She didn’t seem _as_ angry this time, but he wasn’t sure.    

“I promise, I’m not moving anything…I’m working all weekend and—“ 

She laughed, shaking her head.  “No, no. I was just wondering...my A/C is on the blink, and the super can’t come fix it till Monday…do you mind if I come in and hang out for a little while?” 

Steve blinked, taking in her appearance.  Shorts, tank top, hair pulled up into a sweaty bun. 

“I know it’s a little forward, but…” she looked down at her hands.  “I don’t know anyone in the building?  Just you?” 

And for the life of him, he didn’t know why he said the thing he said next.  “I’m…working?” 

“I’ll be quiet.  Promise…” She raised her right hand.  “Scout’s honor.” 

He nodded, moving out of the way to let her pass. 

He watched as she strode down the hallway into the living room. 

“Make yourself at home,” he said, laughing nervously as he went to collect his laptop.  His mouth went dry as she kicked off her flip flops and sat down on the sofa, folding her long legs beneath her as she pulled her phone and a paperback out of her purse. 

“Mind if I play some music while I read?” she asked, gesturing towards the smart TV mounted on his wall. 

He shook his head, backing slowly out of the room in a slow retreat to his office.  “Go ahead.  Knock yourself out.”

“I’ll keep it down,” she said with a wink. 

Honestly, she could have played it full blast while dancing on his couch and he wouldn’t have cared.  Not really. 

Steve sat down at his desk for a moment before rolling his chair back to the door, pulling it open a crack to peek out at her.  Just to make sure she was really there and not some figment of his imagination. 

Nope.  Natasha was here.  Not reading though.  Her book wasn’t anywhere to be found. She was yanking the hair band out of the messy bun on the back of her head.  Red waves of hair cascading down her back.  Her hips swaying lightly to the music as she inspected one of the paintings on his wall. 

The mermaid one he had in the living room.  The…uh…red-headed mermaid one he had in the living room. 

He’d painted it right after he met her.  She inspired him.    

Steve watched her reach out to touch the canvas.  Her fingertips moving over the uneven surface.  The dried paint. 

He gulped as her fingers trailed up to the face of the figure.  He wondered if she knew.  Could she know?  Would she find it flattering?  Or just creepy? 

Her hips were still swaying.  A little more vigorously than before.  Her hands went up into her hair as she backed away from the painting.  Her back arched as she moved to the music.

And Steve was starting to feel a little bit like a voyeur.  In his own home.  He let the door close and leaned up against it. 

His hot…scorching hot, neighbor was dancing in his living room.  Natasha was writhing to music in his apartment.  That thought made him groan internally and reached down to press against the aching need in his jeans. 

He was such a pervert.  She had no idea that he was watching her.  He was disgusting. 

Knuckles rapped on the door seemingly right behind his head.  He turned immediately, fiddling with the doorknob to open it. 

Natasha had her hand in her hair still, grinning crookedly.  “Can I trouble you for a drink?” 

He turned around to glance at his abandoned graphic design project still pulled up on his laptop.  “Sure.  I was just about to take a break anyway…” 

He exited the office, making his way to the kitchen.  He opened the refrigerator door.  “I have water…juice...soda…” 

“Wine?” she asked, reaching into the door and producing a half-full bottle of merlot. 

“Or wine…”

She smirked and turned to look around his kitchen.  “Glasses?” 

“Oh, here…” Steve reached up to grab two from the cabinet, taking the wine bottle from Natasha.  He pulled out the cork with his teeth and poured two glasses, offering one to her. 

She laughed and took it, immediately getting the stems of the glasses confused, resulting in a spectacular amount of red wine ending up on her white tank top.  “OH!” 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”  Steve moved the glasses, reaching for a tea towel hanging on the stove to hand to her, but when he turned back, the tank top was clearing her head and she was standing there in a pair of black shorts and a bra.  “Oh my god…I’m so sorry…”  he repeated, looking up at the ceiling and reciting all the saints he could think of. 

Natasha took the towel from him, reaching over to wipe some residual wine off his forearm.  He shivered as she trailed it all the way up his arm, over his bicep, up towards his shoulder. 

“Steve…” she said quietly, reaching up to tilt his chin down so he was looking at her.  “It was an accident…” 

“Yes…” he agreed.  “But you’re…” 

She smirked.  “Do I look like you imagined?  You know…if you wanted, I could pose for you so you could finish that mermaid painting in your living room…” 

He gulped.  “That painting’s finished, though.” 

“This isn’t the Disney Channel.  Mermaids don’t wear clam bras and you know it…”  Her tone was teasing, but there was something else there.  Something underneath.  She dropped the towel and ran her hands up his chest, rucking up his t-shirt in the process.  “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this…” 

“You have?” 

She nodded.  “Ever since I came down here and yelled at you for being noisy…I wanted to _ruin_ you.” 

“Ruin me…” he echoed. 

“Was that permission?”  She grinned widely and knelt down in front of him, her hands were on his belt and he was nodding, nodding because holy FUCK, she was asking him permission. 

She tugged his belt open, followed by the button and the zip of his jeans.  Her hand was on him.  Encircling his girth and sliding up and down.

He let out a strangled whine when she began stroking him steadily. Slowly. There was a slight burn, because both his cock and her hand were dry, but she wasn’t going fast enough for it to become a problem. Natasha was jerking him off as slow as she possibly could and he was whining like some asshole teenager in the back of a car.

Her thumb swept up over the head, slicking him with his own pre-come that was steadily leaking all over, weeping over the top of her fist.

She leaned forward, her tongue flicking out to lap at the head of his cock. 

He let his head fall back, a soft whimper escaping his lips as the heat of her mouth encircled him completely.  She sucked at him gently, not enough to do more than tease.  He gripped the kitchen counter behind him. 

He almost couldn’t look down at her, watch as she hollowed her cheeks and sucked him like a goddamn lollypop.  He almost couldn’t but he did.  Watched her bob her head up and down his length, not taking him the whole way in, but it was close.  Admired her plump lips stretched around his girth. 

Watched her hand slid down the front of her shorts. 

She worked him up quickly, seemingly knowing every little spot to tease and in what order. 

“M’ Close…Natasha…” he grunted, hoping she could understand him through clenched teeth. 

She hummed, speeding up slightly just as his release began to pulse.  Swallowing around him as he came down her throat. 

She started pulling away too soon.  He thrust forward with a groan, chasing her mouth as she moved back from him and…

…almost fell off the couch in the process. 

Steve sat straight up, looked around, bewildered by his surroundings for a moment. He was on the couch in the living room.  Half on, half off.  There was music playing.  He vaguely remembered turning it on to keep himself awake.  His laptop was on the coffee table in front of him.

He gulped and blinked a few times, looking down at his lap.  It was a dream.  He’d just had a sex dream about his downstairs neighbor.  And he’d come in his pants.  Like a teenager.

Great. 

Oh, and he was jerk in his dreams apparently.  He didn’t even return the favor. 

He rolled his eyes and stood, turning off the music and making his way back to his bedroom to change.  Take another shower. 

It was while he was stepping out of the shower that he heard the door.  Someone knocking.  He thought about ignoring it, but decided against it. 

He wrapped a towel around his hips and answered it, nearly falling on the floor when he saw who was there. 

Natasha. 

“I…uh…I’m sorry about the music earlier?”  he ventured, thinking that was what had her there outside his door. 

She laughed, shaking her head.  “No, no. I was just wondering...my A/C is on the blink, and the super can’t come fix it till Monday…do you mind if I come in and hang out for a little while?”

He blinked a couple of times, pinching his forearm and willing himself to not say something stupid. 

“I’m…naked…” he said slowly. 

_So much for not sounding stupid._

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://dresupi.tumblr.com/)!


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